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Poem

We often envision justice; but the destroyers of hope mock us openly 
And they bare the faces of so many; in a time without end.
Yet in the deep recesses of our heart, we conceive ourselves as free;
And on the inside we reel with satisfaction; but on the outside nothing shows.
And somehow dissension always manifests its self slowly to the surface.

Change now seems left to the hands of a power far beyond the efforts of man;
And many who could but never will; see little chance for recovery.
So we aspire to acquire features of comfort that distract the seemingly inevitable;
And we beg even steal for our moments of blissful forgetfulness but;
The ruthless hand of power is never satisfied; and we are but its beast of burden.

Many as such are not of special lineage;
Nor accredited as scholars;
And a foreboding appears in the absence of light; 
And yet the flowers bloom around us; and the gardens emit their fragrances;
And we the servants, serve without question; in hopes that all goes well

We’re led and directed by those that life chose to grant control to;
And we know these things but we refrain from any futile misgivings.
We carry few delusions of fame or fortune.;
And all in all it is but a bread and water menu.
And if that’s all there is (say I); then why Don't we all just dance

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